


In Your Mind

by klahiie



Category: Hannibal - Fandom, hannigram - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Public Masturbation, erotic asphyxiation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klahiie/pseuds/klahiie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal attempts to push the bonds between his patient therapist relationship with Will Graham. Asking him if he's keeping his body well regulated, he asks if he has satisfied himself sexually. When he finds that Will often thinks about killing him while masturbating, Hannibal asks him to show him what he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Mind

**Author's Note:**

> First Hannigram fic. Sorry! I tried to keep them as in character as possible! I was half asleep when I wrote this.

 

The silence was welcome, although not unfamiliar in the highly decorated, yet empty therapy room. In his mind, music played. Humming strings from _Requiem Mass in D minor- Lacrimosa_. Graphite gliding across white paper. His hand rested gently across a white cloth to keep his work from smearing and hands from being stained in black.

The door opened, his eyes shooting up in irritation to the intruder who had the gall to enter without so much as a warning. That was until his eyes fell on the nervous frame of Will Graham. Such a neurotic, defensive man. “Will,” Hannibal found himself smiling as he placed the pencil down and pushed himself back and away from the desk. “I'd heard you'd be assisting Jack on a case all day.” He spoke, pushing himself out of the chair to greet him. No sense being rude and remaining seated.

“Yes, well, the case was suspended until further notice.” Will muttered, looking around the same room he'd seen a thousand times, as if trying to make sure everything was still he same and he wasn't going o go insane. “We ran out of donuts.” His eyes shot up to him as he spoke sarcastically, lips quivering into a slight and exhausted smile.

“That bad,” the doctor came around the desk, motioning for Will to have a seat. “what went wrong?” He questioned, watching as Will made his way for one of the chairs and sat down, letting off a resigned moan into the silence. A moan that sounded like the melodious chord from a cello.

“What didn't go wrong?” Will rephrased his question for him bitterly. “Somehow Freddie Lounds got to our story before we did, again,” His eyebrows raised as he wiped sweating palms off on his thighs. “half tempted to suggest instead of locking her with one of those...house arrest anklets, instead we strap her with a zap collar. She comes within 20 feet of a crime scene-” He stopped. The doctor chuckled, feeling amusement bubble to the surface, imagining Freddie Lounds getting zapped from approaching.

“It seems a bit unethical.” Hannibal replied, taking the seat across from him. He crossed his legs, silky like pants reflecting the setting sun that shined in through the window. He could see Will across the way, lips parted as he idly dragged a swollen tongue across chapped lips. Eyes dropped from his face to his crossed legs, and the doctor felt the gaze like being caught in a room set in flame.

“Yeah well, sometimes unethical needs to be done to get the point across.” Will dragged his hand across his mouth, averting his eyes.

“Ms. Lounds is a piranha in a sea of Herring, too weak to attack the heart of the school so she hangs about the edges for the injured to fall into her reach.” Hannibal let his eyes slide closed, eyebrows raising. He could feel a chill until the burning of eyes skimmed across his body. Will smelled...different. Exhausted as usual, adorned with sweat and anxiety, but there was something else. Something that kept the doctors eyes shut as he explored the smell further.

Frustration. Desperation. A burst of testosterone? He inhaled deeply, the smell of raw hormones leaving an almost spicy taste along his tastebuds as he breathed him in from across the room. “Have you been getting enough rest, Will?” Hannibal opened his eyes finally, relatively surprised to find him looking into a smelting pair of blue eyes.

“As much rest as I usually get.” Will attempted to deflect the conversation, shifting stiffly in his chair.

“How about personal time?” The doctor questioned, not tip-toeing around the question, but not bombarding him with it either. No harsh words, no directly questioning his sex life unless he needed to get that far.

“Personal time, Doctor Lecter?” Will was starting to catch on, and the burning in those eyes sent a tingle up through the doctor's legs, raising the hair on his arms.

“You are a grown man,” Hannibal acknowledged, bringing it to attention. “and as a stress reliever, sexual release can greatly lower tension and anxiety.” He explained, but stopped when Will laughed, shaking his head.

“Is my therapist prescribing me sex?” His question was deep, quiet but audible. The way it was asked twisted the cannibals intestines into knots. “I don't do well with intimacy, Doctor Lecter.” He reminded.

“Nor is it imperative you experience relief with another person. Masturbation is a perfectly viable option.” Hannibal defended, giving the man another option. But Will said nothing, his elbows resting on the arm rests, fingers crossed over his waist as he stared at the doctor with inquisitive eyes. After a moment of silence he cleared is throat and shifted.

“Don't you think it's inappropriate to suggest I masturbate?” Will's eyebrows quirked a bit as he sat up straight in his chair to get comfortable again.

“Why?” Hannibal asked, holding his curiosity. “We are both adults. Besides, sexual stimulation and orgasm activate the parasympathetic nervous system, leading to a production of acetylcholine, dopamine and serotonin.” He replied, explaining it from a scientific point of view. “It is a natural way the body balances its chemistry.” Will didn't reply right away. He just stared at him as if he couldn't believe they were having the conversation. How masturbation even came up.

“Do _you_ masturbate, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked, question aimed to make the psychiatrist feel trapped, but the doctor didn't fall for it that easy.

“The focus isn't on me, Will,” He redirected. “I am happy, well enough, and I keep well regulated and healthy balanced brain activity through what I put in my body.”

“Yes, but do you _masturbate_?” Will pushed, smile across his lips as he saw the awkwardness come over the man he consulted with on a regular basis. He was sure the doctor would understand the situation, and the intense awkwardness of it and switch the topic, but when he looked at him, eyes soft and dark, head tilting to the side, Hannibal nodded.

“I do.” He admitted. That admission was almost profound for Will. He never imagined the man partaking in activities like that. Self pleasure. It seemed almost too... _rude_ for him. Too filthy or poor for his refined lifestyle. “Two, maybe three times a week.” He added. As he spoke, Will's mouth opened as if words hung from his teeth, but no sound came out.

“Ok.” He forced a smile and pushed himself to his feet and made for the window.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Hannibal questioned, looking after him as he made his way to the window and spread the blinds with shaking fingers. “To know that someone like myself needs sexual stimulation.”

“Those things are meant to be private.” Will replied haughtily, upper lip curling.

“But you asked.” Hannibal pinned the blame.

“I didn't want an answer.” Will stared out the window. He didn't move, his eyes looking over the nature that surrounded the building. Hannibal didn't say anything for a bit, watching him, observing him. His words convinced him that there was a desire not to speak of the subject, but there was a thickness in the air. A heat that was suffocating.

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” The doctor questioned. He knew that getting so personal with a patient was forbidden, but it was different with Will. Almost free range.

“I don't know.” Will replied too fast. Guarded. Defensive. Dismissive.

“Was it some time after killing Garrett Jacob Hobbs?” Hannibal pushed. Will was silent, eyes not moving as he stared out the window. “Perhaps, after meeting me.” He offered. The sudden ping of guilt across the mans face nearly confirmed it.

“It doesn't matter.” Will muttered.

“How many times since you attempted to kill me?” He asked. Will stopped completely, staring down at the floor. The look of shame that cloaked Will like a blanket dropped over a drooping house plant brought a small tingle of pride to the doctor as his own heat mixed into the room.

“How many times have _you_ , since I attempted to kill you?” Will finally asked after a long moment of silence. A question that shocked the cannibal more than he wanted to admit. But he felt compelled to be truthful.

“More often than one would find appropriate.” Hannibal admitted, dragging his tongue across his lips, legs crossed as his eyes fell on Will's shoulders.

“Do you think about it?” Will asked, his body tense, voice quiet. The doctor didn't respond right away, watching at him silently. He was trying to figure out the mood of the room. He wasn't sure how far he should take it. How far he should let this roll.

“Yes.” He admitted. Will turned and looked at him. His expression was unreadable. A mixture between confused, disgusted and pained; his lips parted, mouth opening wide to form the words he worked hard to choke from his throat. “Do you?” Hannibal asked instead, not letting the strangled word to leave his recoiled tongue.

That question seemed to break it up. Whatever he was going to say shattering like an iron ball on the sidewalk as he closed his mouth and looked at the doctor for a long, silent moment. His fingers flexed at his sides, toes tapping against he carpet as he squirmed beneath the question, although he never broke eye contact. Then suddenly, he stopped moving all together. His jaw flexed and he steeled himself as if he were facing down a great enemy.

“Yes.” He whispered, voice quivering. He swallowed back the betrayal in his voice and held his breath as the doctors eyebrows rose in reply.

“What do you wish to do, when you think of me?” Hannibal asked softly, wanting to gauge whether it was a sexual fantasy of Will's, or a psychotic one. “Do you use your hands? Or do you use a weapon?” He offered.

“It depends.” Will admitted, upper lip curling a bit as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Do you draw blood?” The doctor fished for details. Will inhaled deeply and averted his eyes, staring off across the room. He felt suffocated too, even as he stood on the farthest side of the room.

“Sometimes.” Will replied before letting silence fall over the room. Nothing was said from either of them for a while, although the tension in the air was there. A heat that traversed the room, bouncing between them even though they stood so far apart.

“Show me.” Hannibal finally said, looking at him seriously.

“What?” Will chuckled dryly, eyebrows furrowing as anxiety vibrated through him, feeling like a fly trapped in a mason jar.

“Your fantasy. Show me.” Hannibal repeated himself, resting his hands on his knee. Will didn't respond right away, staring into the serious eyes that glimmered from across the room.

“What exactly do you want me to show you?” Will questioned, speaking slowly. His words rolling carefully over a hesitant tongue.

“Whatever runs through your mind in moments of your relief.” The doctor reiterated, giving permission as his linked fingers slid up down his thigh and into his lap. Will stared at him confused, his stomach in knots as a squealing filled his ears. He looked uncomfortable, and Hannibal was about to retract the instruction when the agent finally took a step forward. He approached carefully, each step precise, his hands by his sides.

Hannibal uncrossed his legs, eyes glued to Will's as he pulled up in front of him, shoulders squared. He could smell the fear, but it wasn't a fear for doing what he was going to do. No, it was fear for possibly going too far.

“I'm sorry.” Will whispered, a small twitch coming to the doctor's lips. Then suddenly, Will was on him, hand around his throat. The violence startled Hannibal at first, his lips parting to take in a sharp breath that was cut short, but he steeled himself. He kept his eyes glued to Will's, legs spreading to let his patient step in, knee on the chair between his legs.

He had a good grip on him. Tight, bruising, but not tight enough to completely close off his airway -it was his design. There was hatred, and intimacy in the grip, and the way sweat beaded along Will's forehead. The smell of his soap and salty sweat as it washed over him.

The doctor closed his eyes, tilting his head back to give him more room. More room to wrap his white knuckles around his throat. To allow the snake to constrict the oxygen from him. But it didn't stay at that. A slight maneuvering, followed by the vanishing hand. Hannibal looked down when he could breathe unobstructed, only to find Will struggling with his belt, switching hands, and slamming the other hand up around his throat to hold him there.

He wheezed, legs spreading more as the pants went down, Will's cock swollen and red from blood. And even through hazy, dark visioned eyes, Hannibal could see the magnificence of it. Curved up, straight other than that. Uncut and a single, hearty vein down the middle along the bottom. The head swollen and almost heart shaped, though blunt at the tip.

Even Hannibal wouldn't eat something so perfect. The slightly lower hanging testicle on the left, but both the same size and so obviously not retreated back into the body. He'd sooner encase it in acrylic and gold to immortalize it.

Will's shaking hand grabbed it, squeezing it hard. He pulled the foreskin back like peeling the fatty tissue of a forearm off to expose the muscle beneath and like that Hannibal whined, the lack of oxygen starting to affect him. He closed his eyes as the sound of Will's moans filled the room. The shaking of his flexing legs between his spread thighs and the smell of his sex hitting his nostrils. Salty, a little more irony than most, but sweet as well.

Struggling a bit, he dragged in a breath as hard as he could, trying desperately to get enough oxygen to his brain so no damage could be done. Then as if hearing an unspoken request, Will shifted where he grabbed, sinking his fingers into the sides of his neck to hurt him more than completely cut off his oxygen.

Looking down again, Hannibal watched the damp curls above him shake as his hand moved fast and hard, allowing each motion to reveal and hide the swollen, purplish head and the sweet drops of pre-cum that dripped from the tip and onto the zipper of the doctor's pants.

“Will,” Hannibal wheezed, but the agent didn't listen. He acknowledged that he could hear him by squeezing harder, but he didn't stop. The doctor grunted, looking down at the hanging head and waited, dragging his tongue across his lips.

Suddenly, Will's hips jerked, shaking and thrusting. He could see Will's muscles in his stomach tightning through his shirt and in his denim clad thighs as the rush came. A rush that shot up his stomach, across Will's hand and up his chin and across his lips. A large load by most standards, and enough to startle the cannibal completely.

“I'm sorry.” Will pulled back quickly, panting as Hannibal's first reaction was to gasp in as much oxygen as he could. He leaned forward, hand lifting to his mouth as some of the white cum slipped between his lips, touching his tongue -and reflexively licking the salt from his lips. Will rushed to grab some water from the doctors desk, returning in a panic to find the doctor licking his lips as he dabbed a tissue against his chin.

“It is quite alright.” He replied simply. “As peculiar as it may be to leave with stains up my suit.” He looked at Will, smiling gently, his voice a little hoarse.

“I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have-” Will tried apologizing again, handing him the water, flustered to the point where his face was beet red and the cannibal could practically hear his pounding heart from across the room.

“Will,” Hannibal interrupted, speaking sternly. He took the water and took a drink, reluctantly washing the taste of him from his mouth. Will waited, hands by his sides as he waited for the therapist to put the drink down and finish what he was saying -if there was more.

Putting the glass down, he nodded his head and took a couple of new tissues, working on dabbing at the salty spill on his clothes. “I would put myself away, lest Jack decide to barge in.” He flashed the agent a smile.

Eyes dropping down the front of him, Will hurriedly pulled the front of his pants back up, stuffing his mostly limp member back behind cotton briefs and buttoned his pants, chuckling nervously and forcing a smile.

“I'll...I'm gonna...” He pressed his palms together, bringing his fingertips to his lips as he stumbled for the words to say, watching the man he tried to kill clean his semen off his shirt and face. “I'm gonna go.” He made for the door. “See if I uh,” He coughed, clearing his throat. “See if...anyone doesn't need help.” Hannibal turned, watching him walk away with concerned eyes.

“Oh Will,” He spoke up, the agent whirling around to look at him. “Just like emotions, it is unhealthy to bury our desires. Succumbing to them in short bursts, bit by bit can prohibit the build up of pressure, which in the end prevents a violent release.” He explained. “Today, you've helped the both of us prevent a violent release.” He smiled gently. A silent and dignified thanks, never spoken out loud just as he knew Will would appreciate.

Will nodded, mouth hanging open as he stammered and stuttered. Running into the door before opening it and running into the edge, he chuckled nervously before turning his back on the man he'd come to confide in, even if he didn't feel as though he could trust him -and knew why.

Hannibal on the other hand, couldn't ignore the churning of his own emotions and desires. Or on top of that, the _desire_ he _tasted_ from him. An event Will would know doubt convince himself it was all in his mind.

 


End file.
